You Don't Mean That
by justpawful
Summary: "How about this," he said, grinning, "We have an all-out race to the top, right now. Pedal as hard as you can, and even when you feel like you can't pedal anymore, keep going!" it was ridiculous, of course, but he knew that Onoda would accept. The minute his eyes brightened and he smiled, Midousuji knew that his fate was sealed.


this. has been sitting in my documents. FOREVER. i don't even remember when i started writing it. i haven't been into midosaka in months. i was getting tired of seeing it here, and i didn't want to delete it, so i thought i might as well finish it. sorry if it's ooc!

* * *

Kyoto Fushimi had a race against Sohoku that day.

Midousuji had researched the set course, and though Sohoku may have thought they had the upper hand, Midousuji quickly proved them wrong, even going so far as to appear on one of their scheduled days of practice before the race. He had watched from the sidelines as they went around and around the course, each cycle leaving them more and more irate at seeing him there, waiting while grinning and shouting false praises dripping with sarcasm. None of them had asked him to leave, however, though he was sure Imaizumi was just brimming with rage. Their stoic little captain had probably advised them against it, and he was sure he had seen nothing important. They wouldn't reveal any strategy with an enemy in their midst. It was merely a tactic of intimidation. After their practice, he had ridden the course himself, and found it average, surely nothing impressive, and well suited for a school race.

He had, of course, brought all of Kyoto Fushimi to practice on it, and made them ride twice the amount of laps he had seen Sohoku make, and then he had tacked on ten more, just to make sure they had the plan memorized. It was a simple course, with a steep uphill battle directly preceding a long, arduous flat. They were simple minions, however, and he had no patience for mistakes. As expected, though, not one of his small fry had made a misstep, and they had made it successfully through five phases before- just as they entered the uphill segment- everything went Horribly Wrong, and he made a misstep of his own.

Midousuji watched as Onoda Sakamichi, using his abnormally high cadence, made his move and detached from the group. He was not surprised that they had sent him over Makishima Yusuke, as he had prepared for either eventuality, and the next, obvious step was to send Tsuji out after him, to let Sohoku have the mountain, and to overtake them immediately afterward and crush their confidence, but Midousuji's mind went blank. Without thought, he skipped right over phase six and kicked off after Onoda mechanically, not even bothering to signal Tsuji or the rest of the team. Faintly, he heard Mizuta's annoying small fry voice shouting after him, wanting orders, wanting direction. He heard Ishigaki taking over for him, keeping everyone in formation, keeping the small fry under control. None of it mattered, though. Only capturing Onoda mattered, only beating him and claiming victory over him mattered, and somewhere, far off at the back of his mind, a small voice was screeching at him, commanding him to reroute, to slow up and let Sohoku have the peak, to slow up and return to the plan, because there was still time to correct this error! There was still time!

He caught up to Onoda easily and grinned at him, taunting him.

"Sakamichiii, looks like you're not so fast, after all! Look at how quickly I caught up, I can overtake you easily!" He slapped the side of his face, grinning wider, "Maybe you should give up, huuuuh?" Onoda's reaction was wrong, of course, like it always was. He looked over at Midousuji and a bright, blinding smile broke out across his face, so bright that Midousuji found he had to look away, as a flare of heat had surged forth in his chest. Confused and uncomfortable, his gaze was drawn to Onoda's cadence, and even though he was no longer looking ahead, or paying attention to the road at all it seemed, he did not let it slow. He kept it perfectly consistent, actually, and even though his pedaling style was all wrong, somehow he made it work. Midousuji narrowed his eyes.

"Midousuji-kun!" his attention was pulled back upwards to Onoda, back to his smile, "I was hoping we would get a chance to race again! I've been practicing for this!"

"Ugh, gross!" he made a face, "You tried sooo hard, just for me? Pii, you haven't even improved at all!" he sighed, pretending to be disappointed, even though it seemed that Onoda's footwork, though still a mess, had improved a great deal. Onoda's smile faltered, and he laughed despairingly, glancing away. For some reason, this made Midousuji's chest tighten, and the heat inside erupted. He had to cover his mouth to keep from making any sounds. This was about unnerving the enemy, this was about road racing, and this was no time to be breaking character. He had to keep calm. He was in control of the situation, not Onoda.

"W-well, maybe I haven't improved that much, but I feel like I've gotten much better..." Onoda was saying, and Midousuji quickly moved his hand from his mouth to the handlebars, ignoring the jittery, awful feelings inside as Onoda's eyes were once again on him. Suddenly, his expression had lit up once more, and a spark of something Midousuji could not identify appeared there(reword), "In fact, watch this!" With that, Onoda, who was already riding at one hundred rpm uphill, increased his cadence by fifty rpm in one even motion, and then, after he had glanced back to affirm that Midousuji had seen, he once again increased his cadence, this time by thirty. It all happened so smoothly, each increase blending evenly into the next, that Midousuji was left in Onoda's dust, watching after him as he rounded the next bend. A wide smile split Midousuji's face- so the small fry had improved that much, huh?

"Gross," he said, though he was still smiling, and he kicked off once again to chase Onoda, rounding the bend and leaning forward against his handlebars. If they were going to ride all out, though, he might as well start slow. Onoda would surely tire himself out before the next curve. There was no need to rush.

"Gro-o-o-o-oss!" he shouted ahead, laughing in a high, mocking tone. Onoda, who was much closer now, glanced back, his eyes wide presumably because Midousuji had caught up so quickly, "How long are you even going to be able to keep up this pace?"

"I-I told you!" Onoda said through gasping breaths, "I've been practicing!" he was still smiling, but there was a visible strain to his expression, and Midousuji covered his mouth, pretending to hide his snickering. Onoda may have improved, but there was no way he could maintain this speed up the entire mountain without having to drop out. Even if he did speed up and somehow manage to scrounge up the strength to take the peak, he would fall within seconds.

"You're so gross, Sakamichiii! You'll fall before you reach the top!" and, his shoulders shaking, he snickered more loudly while Onoda's expression drooped, and Midousuji knew that this was the right response, that this was what he had been trying to achieve, but he was somehow disappointed. He leaned further forward on his handlebars, his muscles only now beginning to strain against their bandages. He could still go so much faster. He could steal the peak now, if he wanted to; but he wanted to see just how much Onoda had improved, "How about this," he said, grinning, "We have an all-out race to the top, right now. Pedal as hard as you can, and even when you feel like you can't pedal anymore, keep going!" it was ridiculous, of course, but he knew that Onoda would accept. The minute his eyes brightened and he smiled, Midousuji knew that his fate was sealed.

"U-um, but," Onoda's expression fell again, and he turned to look forward, "If I do that, I won't be able to cross the finish line with Sohoku!" Midousuji's stomach dropped. This entire time, Onoda actually had been pacing himself. Which meant that he _could_ maintain this pace and then keep racing. Which meant that Onoda knew that he could still go faster if he needed to. Midousuji had underestimated him, it seemed, still somehow seeing him on reflex through the same lens he viewed everyone else. Yet Onoda had proved time and time again that he was Different. Midousuji stopped immediately, recalculated, rerouted. He knew Onoda Sakamichi. He had only been caught up in the moment, but he knew Onoda's one weakness, a weakness that could also prove to be his biggest strength.

He loved to chase.

"Well," Midousuji swayed his bike from side to side, feigning disinterest, "You said you wanted to race me again, right? One on one? I guess we'll just have to see how much your precious mountaintop means to you," He stood up, leaning as far forward as he could without falling, and looked up at Onoda from the ground, grinning widely as he said, "Because I'm going to steal it, if you can't catch me!"

Immediately, Midousuji accelerated far ahead of Onoda, and made the next curve smoothly. Surely, Onoda would chase him. Surely he would tire himself out and be forced to drop out of the race. Kyoto Fushimi would have the mountain top checkpoint, and Midousuji would continue to accelerate, devouring this puny course in one huge bite. He did not need the rest of his team for this; he didn't need anybody. The only sound on the wind was that of his own tires against the concrete, his own breath coming in and out in short bursts as he flew up the path. Scenery rushed by in a blur, now here was a man buying a drink, and now there was a family sitting together on a bench. Here was a group of school girls, shouting things as he went by, here to watch the race. They were all left behind him, all wilting in his wake. Just like Onoda would. Just like Onoda _was,_ surely _._ He chanced a momentary glance back, prepared to taunt or to increase his speed, but the air was still. There were no other cyclists in sight.

Perhaps he had misjudged Onoda again.

Riding at the front did not seem as important, however, as he continued to speed up the mountain. It seemed boring, somehow. Lackluster. Going into this, he had expected a fight from Onoda, and it felt too easy, too pathetic a victory, that he almost did not want to claim it. _Almost_. Victory was victory, after all, and if Sohoku really was so passive and careless, then he had no qualms about crushing them. Still, his grin slipped from his face, and though he still pedaled all out, for some reason he could not get as involved as he had been before. If victory was all that mattered, then why, right now, did it seem like part of him was still back down the hill, playing a different sort of game?

He breathed out sharply through his teeth, his hands gripping the handlebars tightly. No, he couldn't get distracted. He had to win. Winning was the only thing that was important, it didn't matter if that disgusting small fry didn't want to play into his games. He would claim victory and lord it over every one of their ridiculous, yellow jerseys. It didn't matter if he had been wrong about one thing. None of it mattered, because he was overqualified to win this race, and that's just what he would do.

Suddenly, the air pressure seemed to shift. A new sound mingled with the whistles of the wind, and a wide grin spread across his face involuntarily, because he knew who was coming. The tension that had coiled in his stomach vanished, and the familiar voice of Onoda Sakamichi sounded across the course.

"Midousuji-kun!" he looked behind him to see Onoda, red faced and drenched in sweat, dancing up the mountain towards him, his cadence higher than Midousuji had ever seen it. Even through his gasps, there was a wide smile that still stretched across his face, "K-kinjou-san told me... Kinjou-san told me... to take the mountain checkpoint!" He reached up to wipe the sweat from his brow, and Midousuji felt a sudden urge to vomit as Onoda caught up, expression as bright as the sun, "so... so that's what I'm going to do!"

He couldn't help it. He burst out laughing, laughing at Onoda and his ridiculous promises, his ridiculous _honor_ , his _ridiculous face_ that was so gross and open and genuine, so happy. The laughter turned cruel as Midousuji repressed the sickness that had turned into a storm in his insides, and he grinned at Onoda.

"I knew it. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist," he snickered, speeding up slightly to speak to Onoda over his shoulder, "You're so predictable, Sa~ka~mi~chiii~, so predictable and _gross_. I'm going to wipe you away, just like your pitiful-"

It happened fast, too fast for Midousuji to react, but his words stuck in his throat when he looked behind him to see that Onoda had hit something in the road, and time seemed to slow down as he sped away, Onoda growing smaller, bike tipping forward, face frozen in shock as he was launched forward, and his glasses had barely lifted from his face, but Midousuji, in that instant, imagined them smashed, crumpled, covered in red. He sucked in a breath, and without another thought, he came to an abrupt halt, tires screeching against the pavement. His De Rosa fell, his body turned, but Onoda was already rolling, twisting, tumbling around up the road, his body curled in on itself, his helmet flying away.

The world was static.

Onoda stopped rolling, his bike had skidded to a halt some feet away from him, and Midousuji stood, motionless, staring down at Onoda who lay unmoving on the road. The world was quiet, calm, still. Blood rushed in Midousuji's ears, and Thoughts crept to him, quiet thoughts that asked him why he was waiting, why he was watching, why he wasn't riding away, victorious, because the peak was his now, the race was his now.

Midousuji bent down, mechanically, and lifted his De Rosa from the concrete, his frame stiff, his eyes wide.

He mounted it slowly, carefully, feeling like he was neck deep in a pool of molasses, and he glanced back again, staring at the still form so far from him. A glint of light caught his gaze, and he saw that Onoda's glasses had fallen, had broken. He snapped one of his shoes into his pedal, locked it in place and turned away from the scene behind him, but he did not start pedaling. He waited, silent, and then turned his head to the sky, gritting his teeth so hard he was afraid he would crack them again, and a quiet screech built up in his chest, but formed as a lump in his throat. A weak sound was growing louder, and when Midousuji learned that, no, it was not coming from him, he looked behind him once again, tuning in to the world, and the static began to clear. It was Onoda.

"M-midousuji?" he was weakly crying out, seemingly unable to move or look in Midousuji's direction, "A-are you still there?"

In that moment, the world was sharper than it had ever been.

Midousuji dismounted his De Rosa instantly, and found himself almost running down the mountain path to reach Onoda, skidding to a halt next to him. Onoda was covered in red, his left arm bent at a Wrong angle. He wasn't sure what to do in this situation, there were no fans or racers nearby, the rest of the two teams were at least six minutes behind them, and the recovery van was at the very rear of the race, watching out for stragglers or racers who had dropped out. They were probably driving leisurely, sure that nobody would _need_ to drop out on such a short track. He did not have his phone on him, it wasn't necessary to carry something so frivolous on a race, and he had nothing to stop the bleeding, but there was _so much_ bleeding.

"I-I don't know what happened," Onoda said when he saw Midousuji, turning his head only slightly and wincing at some pain that Midousuji, in a wave of anxiety, could not pinpoint the source of, "Everything was fine, I was doing f-fine-" Midousuji bent down when Onoda tried to push himself up and was cut off by a scream.

"Idiot. Idiot small fry," Midousuji held him in place, hands gripping too hard perhaps, but his heart roared in his ears, and he could feel his pulse in his fingers. Onoda looked up to him, tears in his eyes, and Midousuji was struck by such a sharp pang of revulsion that he almost vomited on the spot, but covered his mouth instead and closing his eyes tightly so he did not have to see the tears or the pain on Onoda's face, "Don't cry, you- don't cry, I hate it, I hate crying, it's-" he forced his eyes open and looked down the path behind them instead of at Onoda, "Everybody else is too far behind us, so we'll have to wait," he noticed the blood trickling down Onoda's forehead then, glancing over for only a second, and he covered his eyes, "Don't move, don't- I can't move you, you hit your head, you _idiot_ ," Onoda's good hand shot out when Midousuji moved to stand, and his panicked voice grated on Midousuji.

"D-don't leave, Midousuji-kun, please!" Midousuji ripped his arm from Onoda, feeling an immense and sudden guilt when Onoda's face twisted with grief and pain.

"Shut up! Shut up, I'm not!" his gut swarmed with _feelings_ and he stood up, turning away from Onoda, "I can't _move_ you, I'm going to get your bike, you stu-" he pressed his palm against his eyes, focusing on the way stars shot out from his vision, focusing on the stars turning to static, focusing on anything _but_ Onoda, "You're so- _irresponsible!_ You're such a messy, _gross_ person, I can't even look at you!"

"Oh-" he heard Onoda intake a sharp breath, and Midousuji walked quickly away to collect Onoda's bike, spotting and fetching Onoda's helmet, which was not far off. Then, after parking it off to the side of the road, he went to collect his own bike, and, as an afterthought, Onoda's glasses. One lens was completely shattered, and the other was cracked. They were, altogether, totally unsafe to wear, but knowing Onoda he would want them back anyway, for _sentimental value_. He sneered at the glasses in his hand, and popped out the cracked lens, just to make sure they were completely unusable so Onoda would not try to put them on.

He parked his bike next to Onoda's.

"I'm going to roll you over," he said in disgust, not looking at Onoda, "Because you're stupid arm looks broken, and you're still laying on it," he did not add that there was blood covering the left side of Onoda's face, but after a brief, painfully slow moment, he could clearly see the gash that now decorated Onoda's temple, "What a gross mess," he said, looking down the mountain path for the other racers and removing his helmet. As he wiped the sweat from his brow, he felt cold and clammy, despite the blazing heat, and he could hear, faintly, the sounds of Onoda quietly sniffling on the ground beneath him, trying not to cry too loudly, presumably because Midousuji had told him not to. It made Midousuji sick to his stomach, and he heaved a frustrated groan.

"I found your glasses," he snapped, turning them over in his hands and glaring at the bent, black frames, "They're broken, because they're stupid and clumsy and fragile, and you shouldn't wear them in a race. You should get contacts," Onoda did not answer, but the sniffling ceased, and Midousuji rolled over times and cyclists and tracks and techniques in his head while he waited. The teams would be coming up the mountain now, and the incline would set them back, but Midousuji was sure that it would only be roughly three more minutes. Sohoku would be in sight first, as Ishigaki would have Tsuji draft for the team, so he would be free to break off with Yowaizumi and Sohoku's ace to attempt to catch up to Midousuji, "I should have waited," Midousuji muttered, more to himself than to Onoda, "You would have beaten Tsuji and taken the mountain checkpoint. You wouldn't have been so distracted by disgusting promises, because Tsuji wouldn't have been as big a threat, and everything would have gone according to plan," Ishigaki wouldn't have caught up to Midousuji, of course, had Onoda not fallen, and Onoda would have dropped out anyway.

"Maybe I should have..." he made a quiet, disgruntled noise, and stopped talking. Onoda still did not respond, and, for fear that he had passed out, Midousuji finally looked at him, and was immediately caught by Onoda's gaze. Big, wet eyes stared up at him, bright and blue, and far too pretty. Midousuji felt his chest tighten up again, his teeth gritting, his muscles tensing, "What?" he spat, his tone harsher than he had intended, "Why do you stare like that? Why do you just look at people with your gross eyes and your disgusting- This is your fault, this is all your fault, if you would just pay attention to where you're going-" but Onoda's eyes had started to fill with tears again, and Midousuji made a frustrated noise and had to press his palms to his eyelids again, he had to focus, had to find a foothold.

"I'm sorry, Midousuji-kun," Onoda's voice was a quiet, pitiful squeak that made Midousuji want to lash out or run away; something burned in his stomach, and in that moment he was so _angry_ , "I-I just wanted to-"

"It doesn't matter!" he said, raising his voice, "It's gross! It's all gross nonsense that pathetically sentimental people like you say because you think it _means something_ , because you think it matters at all, but it doesn't, it's useless! Pointless! Unnecessary! Gross, gross, gross!" he pressed his palms harder, until it hurt, until he was almost lost in the static.

"I-I'm sorry, but- " Onoda made a pained noise, and whatever he had to say was cut off by the sound of tires against pavement. Midousuji's head snapped up, and he huffed out an irritated sigh.

" _Finally_."

* * *

Midousuji did not hear from Onoda again for a few days after that.

They had finished the race despite Onoda's injury, and Sohoku had won, because Midousuji had found himself incapable of focusing on anything at all, much less powering through the last three kilometers with Ishigaki while his mind wandered and split itself between a million different trains of thought. He had been surly and quiet on the ride back to Kyoto, and not one of his teammates had been foolish enough to ask him about what had happened during the race. Ishigaki had approached him at school the next day, however, and though Midousuji had been more hostile than usual, he had persisted through it, an underlying frustration with Midousuji apparent from his tone.

"I just don't understand," Ishigaki had said, his voice barely calm, "you put all this effort into your plan, and then you just take off, just like that. No word, no warning-"

"I know what happened, Ishigaki-kun. If you recall, I was there," his tone was biting, and he stared blankly at Ishigaki, just to unsettle him. There was no part of him that wanted to discuss this, and he would much rather have just pushed it under the rug to be forgotten and never spoken of again, because whenever he did think about it, his insides twisted and churned, and he couldn't focus or apply himself to anything. His mind was pulled back towards Onoda, towards Onoda's pained eyes, his disgusting tears, how red he had been, how Wrong it had all been, how it wasn't supposed to happen that way. If he had just stuck to the plan, if he had just hung back-

He turned abruptly away from Ishigaki then, deciding to take a different route to his class, and to his surprise, Ishigaki dropped the subject. He didn't follow Midousuji or bring it up later during practice, and Midousuji was free to forget about it and continue on as if it had never happened.

That is, until Onoda Sakamichi made him acknowledge it by showing up at his school.

It was only a brief glance, and Midousuji, even after a double take, still hadn't been sure whether or not his eyes were deceiving him. There, right at the font gate, was Onoda, arm up in a sling, bandage plastered to his forehead, arms patched up and bruised. He seemed lost, looking around nervously, as if searching through the crowd, and once Midousuji was certain that this was not some fevered hallucination dreamed up by his itching mind, he had no doubt that Onoda was looking for him. He stood still, silently watching from a distance in the crowd, unsure what to do. Part of him was drawn forward, while another was drawn away, and his mind, once again split evenly down the middle, went completely blank. His limbs carried him without thought, and he found himself crossing the grounds towards Onoda with purpose. Onoda glanced towards him as he drew closer, face brightening with recognition.

"Midousuji-kun!" Onoda gave a nervous smile as Midousuji stopped a few feet from him, eyes scanning the road for any sign of a car that had given Onoda a ride. He saw none, and bristled with irritation. His face still blank, he looked back to Onoda.

"You didn't bike here," he said, his tone mildly accusatory. Onoda laughed, his right arm moving reflexively to the back of his neck.

"No, no, I took the train. I thought, since I don't have to go back to school yet, I should pay you a visit. I-I mean, to thank you," he glanced downward nervously, which piqued Midousuji's interest. He was very clearly uncomfortable, "And I-I don't know where you live, so I thought I'd come here... Not that I would have just barged in or anything, if I did know where you live! I would never... impose like that," he paused, ears turning red with what might have been shame, and Midousuji began to feel stressed. He hated dealing with people and feelings, and it was clear that he had apparently hurt Onoda, who had come all this way anyway, just to give thanks, which was completely and absurdly unnecessary. If Midousuji remembered correctly, he hadn't done much at all to help Onoda- and he was sure that he _did_ remember it correctly, because he had been thinking about it non-stop since the race. If anything, he had been the cause of the accident. He was about to open his mouth to say as much, when Onoda surprised him by speaking again, "So, thank you, Midousuji! I'm very grateful for you."

A hot wave descended over him, and he had to cover his mouth. Gross! Disgusting!

"What kind of wording is that!" he uncovered his mouth and stuck his tongue out at Onoda, who looked up at him nervously, "Gross! You don't have to thank me, I didn't do anything! Don't be so gross, Sakamichi! And it's '-kun'! Midousuji- _kun_!"

"S-sorry, Midousuji-kun," Onoda bowed slightly, and looked down nervously, apparently unsure if he should stay or not.

"That's right," Midousuji said, irritated. He eyed Onoda's arm, "So it's not broken?"

"Huh? O-oh!" Onoda glanced down at his arm, as if he had forgotten about it, and flushed, "No, it's fine! I-I mean, of course it's not fine, but- the doctor said it wasn't a broken bone, j-just that it was dislocated. I can move it, it just hurts. Um," he pulled his arm out of the sling, as if to demonstrate, wincing as he did. Midousuji made a rather loud, frustrated noise.

"Don't do that, you idiot!" Onoda started, "If it hurts, you don't need to move it around for me! Let it heal so you can bike properly again," Onoda flushed in shame, and returned his arm to its sling. The way he looked away from Midousuji, face red and eyes downcast in such a stark contrast to their usual light made Midousuji feel... Wrong, somehow, nauseous even. It was disgusting. He let his expression soften, and glanced around at his peers, most of which had already left. With an irritated grunt, he lifted his bag to rest it over his shoulder, "Whatever. It's fine, so don't look so gross, Sakamichi," he paused, considering, and then, "Do you want me to walk you back?" Onoda glanced up, surprised by the offer, and allowed himself to brighten up slightly, giving a small smile.

"Of course! I-if it's not too much trouble, Midousuji-kun," He happily fell in step beside Misousuji, who was shocked and dismayed that it had been so easy to win him over again. He grit his teeth, and ground them irritably. Not that he had wanted to win _anybody_ over. There was no time for nonsense like that. He made a small, disgruntled sound, and stared resolutely ahead, expecting correctly that Onoda would fill the silence between them, talking about his doctor visit, talking about his mother's reaction, which had apparently been close to hysterics. The doctor had told him to wear the sling for a week, and then to come back in for another x-ray, but it was mostly just standard procedure. Midousuji thought of the way Onoda's arm had been bent backwards, pinned beneath him and going red. He thought of Onoda's glasses, broken and discarded, laying on the pavement alone.

"...back to school by tomorrow... Ah, um," Onoda paused as they neared the station, which tugged Midousuji's attention back to the present. He glanced over, noticing that Onoda had gone shy again, "I hope I wasn't too annoying... I know I talked a lot," Midousuji slowed to a stop and stared back at him, expression impassive.

"It's fine," was all he said.

"I..." Onoda paused, as if uncertain, and Midousuji watched, slightly unnerved, as his expression began to harden into a mask of determination. He looked up at Midousuji suddenly, "I've been thinking a lot about what you said, after the accident," Midousuji turned around, staring blankly at Onoda, who seemed to be gathering his thoughts, "And I wanted to say... um, I wanted to say that I think you're wrong."

"I'm wrong," Midousuji repeated, tilting his head to the side. He felt a mild irritation rising, "What am I wrong about, exactly?"

"W-when you said- That what I was going to say was meaningless," Onoda went on, only faltering for a second before forging on, "Apologizing and explaining myself. Trying to keep my promise to Kinjou-san... Words- even if you don't believe them, I think words can be important. Almost as important as actions. Because it's nice, to hear someone say that they appreciate you, and it's nice to hear someone say that they like you. It's nice when someone apologizes to you, after they've given you trouble. Even if you don't believe them, at the end of the day, it's nice, um. Once in a- while," Onoda paused as Midousuji took a few steps closer, irritation now showing clearly on his face.

"They're nice, are they?" he paused, grinning widely, "That's _disgusting_. That's the worst thing you've ever said," Onoda's expression cracked, but he stared resolutely up at Midousuji, who went on, "It's nice, when people lie to you, isn't it? It's nice, when people tell you what they think you want to hear, only because they want something from you," his grin slipped into a grimace, "You're pathetic. Pleasantries are meaningless and gross, unless they're tools to use in battle. All of you small fries are the same. You're transparent, with your intentions plastered right on your faces, for everyone to see. You're weak. Disgusting. Useless," Midousuji wasn't sure he believed what he was saying, at least when it applied to Onoda, but it was best that he said it anyway. He didn't have time to make friends, and it was clear this was what Onoda wanted. He would cut him off here, and leave him behind, just dead weight holding him back. Distracting him. Being distracted by him. Falling, bloody and broken, removing Midousuji's careful control, forcing him to stop, to turn back-

"No, that's. No," Onoda shook his head, staring up at Midousuji, who blinked, suddenly brought back to reality, "That's not right. You don't mean that!" A wicked grin split across Midousuji's face, and he began to laugh.

"Of course I do," Onoda stared at him for a moment, "You've proven time and time-" Onoda's face suddenly lit up with a wide grin, and Midousuji faltered, pausing involuntarily. This was wrong. This wasn't how he was supposed to react. Why did Onoda never do what he was supposed to? He glared at Onoda, about to continue, to hurt him so that he would not come back, but Onoda spoke first.

"You _don't_ mean that," he said again, and his tone was so confident, so resolute, that Midousuji did not know how to answer for a moment, "You don't. You're just-" he paused, and his expression softened. Something horrible was happening to Midousuji's insides, and he had to clutch a hand to his mouth. He wanted to scream at Onoda, to push him, to make him stop looking like that- so kind and understanding. He wanted to tell him that he didn't know anything, he didn't know anything _at all_.

He couldn't, though. He just stared, silent.

"Thank you for walking me to the station," Onoda said after a moment, finally looking away. Midousuji relaxed slightly, now that Onoda was not looking at him. He sneered, though Onoda could not see.

"Whatever," he spat, and turned away, "I'm going."

"Mido- wait, Midousui-kun!" Midousuji paused, body reacting almost from reflex. He waited, tense, "Um. I also wanted to say... just one more thing," he paused, but Midousuji did not turn around. He couldn't look at him anymore, "I know that... I mean, it seems really silly when I start to say it out loud. I was just thinking about some of the things you said, and... I just wanted you to know, that it wasn't your fault," Midousuji felt his stomach bottom out. His legs were suddenly weak, dread trickling through him to settle in his stomach. How? "The accident, I mean. It wasn't your fault. I should have been paying more attention to where I was going, but I-I was excited. I didn't see the branch on the path. That was my fault, not yours," a long silence stretched between them, and Midousui knew that he should speak, but he couldn't think of anything to say. He dearly wanted to say something to clear Onoda's suspicions, but he couldn't.

"I'm sorry if I caused you any undue stress," Onoda went on, voice wavering slightly with uncertainty, "But I won't take back what I said, because- because I want you to believe me when I say... I really, truly appreciate what you did, Midousuji. Even if you say you did nothing. Thank you."

A chime sounded, and he heard Onoda start, shuffling around in a panic.

"Ah! Ah, um, I have to go, or I'll miss the next train out! So- see you, Midousuji-kun!" he rushed away, and Midousuji did not turn to watch him go. He stood in place, listening to his footsteps disappear, to blend in with all the rest. After a moment, he turned to watch as everyone jostled against each other to get into the train car. He watched the doors close, watched it pull away from the station. He caught sight of Onoda, looking at him through the window, expression lighting up when Midousuji met his gaze. He watched Onoda smile and wave, as the train began to speed up, and, as if unable to help himself, Midousuji raised his had in goodbye.

He lowered it roughly when Onoda was no longer in sight, and began walking as quickly as he could from the station, a horrible taste in his mouth.

He cursed himself, and he cursed Onoda on the way home. He kicked a rock in his path, eyes focused on the sidewalk beneath him, disappointed and enraged with himself for having misjudged Onoda yet again, somehow. Not only did he underestimate him on the track, he underestimated him in real life. He hadn't thought Onoda was perceptive, hadn't pegged him for someone to pay attention so closely when others spoke. He was wrong, had made another misstep. Why did this always happen with Onoda? Why was he so different, so difficult? Why couldn't he just be like all the rest?

"Idiot. Idiot small fry."

He decided again to continue on as if nothing had happened. He pretended that Onoda had not come to visit him at school, and after a week, he had managed to push the unpleasantness from his mind, so that he could focus on practice again. Midousuji could lose himself when he was riding his bike. He didn't have to think about anything at all, if he didn't want to.

After a late practice one evening, Ishigaki stopped him on his way from the bike shed, holding out a small blue envelope that was sealed with a colorful sticker. Midousuji stared at it, narrowing his eyes and then looking at Ishigaki.

"Onoda Sakamichi stopped by earlier," he said bluntly, as if to clarify that the envelope was _not_ from him, "Someone told him you were in practice, so he came by, but I thought I should just take the message to you instead. I thought you wouldn't want to stop practice," Midousuji was bitter for a moment, angry at Ishigaki for stepping in for him. He snatched the envelope from Ishigaki, wondering in spite of himself if he could have spotted Onoda before he left, but shook the thought from him violently, almost offended at himself for having it.

"Alright," he said, and Ishigaki paused, as if wanting to say more, but decided to leave it at that, turning away to get changed instead. Midousuji watched him leave, and then he relaxed, opening the letter.

' _Midousuji-kun_ ,' it read, in a slightly messy scrawl, ' _I'll probably say some of this out loud, so sorry, but I wanted to write a few things down, in case I mess up or forget something. I really liked walking with you last week, sorry I haven't had a chance to visit with you again. I've been really busy! I was practicing late these last few days to catch up with everyone else. We should meet up more often!_

' _Oh, and I forgot! I meant to leave my number with you so we can message each other! I guess I got distracted. Anyway, you should feel free to call or text me any time!_ '

The letter was signed at the bottom, and Midousuji rolled his eyes at how formal it seemed. His number was written out carefully under his signature, and every part of him was screaming for him to throw the note away, and to pretend like it had never arrived. Ignoring Onoda could work. He could make it work. All he had to do was continue on like he had been, pushing all thoughts of Onoda to the back of his mind. All he had to do was rip the note up and throw it away.

He couldn't, though. When he tried, his body wouldn't move.

So he read the number over, and punched it into his phone.

* * *

i don't think i'll write another midosaka fic any time soon, but i'm glad to finally have this one finished

anyway, THANK YOU for reading! i hope you enjoyed


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